The Wolvar's Request.
#2 of Word of Warcraft
The Wolvar's Request.
Ryu's footsteps left barely an imprint in the cold earth as he tracked his target. Red hair was carefully tied in place, keeping it out of his eyes, yet long to show off his status. The top knot was bent with weight, two strands of hair a few finger lengths in width were used to tie and keep it in place in intricate bows.
He breathed out, slowly, his breath crisping in the chill air of the Borean Tundra. He checked a piece of paper, confirming once mor ethat the one he followed was indeed his target. He checked off identifying facial features, night elven face markings, the right scarred by a jagged slash that curled behind his ear. The left eyebrow with three distinct slices parting the strong brow. A nose that had been broken more than once in its owner's long, long life.
A void in space rubbed against his pants leg, leaving warmth and pressure against the cold limb. A hand trailed down, resting against the air.
"Soon Saber, soon." He barely whispered, his eyes tracking the warrior. He moved from the cover of the dying trees, and shadowed his prey. Snowbolds that had somehow managed to survive in this harsh and freezing climate avoided him outright, the few insane ones even contemplating it received arrows between their monolithic brows. Not one sound was uttered in warning, shock, or fear.
Ryu continued to tail his target, his prey, his bounty. The night elf had done something very, very, very bad. The Wolvar had come to him, begging, crying, not caring about honour so long as blood debt be paid. They used charcoal to draw the elf's image, then of him arriving, killing the den mothers and hunters, kidnapping the cubs, and stuffing them into a gigantic sack. They showed how he slaughtered the younglings that fought back, gutting them with a dark grin, throwing their little bodies at the enraged hunters that tried to kill him.
They had turned to him with tears in their eyes, and just the tiniest, slimmest spark of hope that he would help, as no other had.
Ryu had kept silent the entire time, for should he had moved, he would have exploded into violence! That one of the long lived races dared commit this atrocity, to even throw the carcasses of the cubs as though they were toys... Livid with rage, he finally moved. The den mothers were moved back as the hunters stepped forwards, weapons raised as he went for a dagger, then watched in shock as he dipped the blade into his forearm, and slit his arm. Blood gushed, hot and fresh as he moved forwards, and held his bleeding arm over the small fire that was present. His blood hissed, steamed, and evaporated, making the Wolvar salivate.
In the presence of all that needed him most strongly that day, Ryu swore blood oath that they would have the head of the one who had done this. Pack song soared and raged as they accepted his oath, sharp teeth touching at his fingers as hands pulled his arm from the fire, so that they might taste his oath, his strength, and his unbending will.
Ryu stopped as his target stopped. The slit in his arm itched, but the blood had long since stopped leaking from the gash, his immediate application of two heavy frostweave bandages seeing to it. Eyes of blue ice-fire bore holes into his target's back, but no malice was ever sent his way. Ryu had learnt long ago that to throw your aura around would merely tell your prey when you neared. Best to hunt silent, deadly, uncaring if you succeeded or lost, then unleash yourself when the kill was near.
He watched th elf take off the backpack he carried, and search its contents. He looked around once, then pulled out a hearth stone! Ryu's face snarled with savage rage, and he motioned for his invisible friend to go, now.
Snow moved as the creature leapt forth in the first sprint, and then nothing. Ryu pulled an arrow, and sighted along the shaft, pulling back with muscles well honed for combat. Magic played against his face as he borrowed the eyes of the hawk, felt the arrow's path, and concentrated. He waited, even while his prey charged natural energies, rubbing the stone to activate it. He willed silence into his shot, willed death and damage, then released!
The wooden missle shot forth from his bow at such speed, it was already in his prey's back as the bow string whapped his fingers. The man's cry echoed the length of the valley, and then the invisible beast was wrapped around his throat. Saber's eyes glared with a fury matched only by her owner's as she used her weight to pull the night elf down, her powerful jaws clamping tight, cutting off air and blood circulation. Years of instinct, nurtured by her trainer, suffocated the male in his heavy leather.
Ryu was already dashing from his hiding spot as Saber leapt, knowing he had seconds before she killed him. He reached her just as the night elf was losing consciousness, and touched her head. The ghostly pelt shuddered, and slowly she released her death grip. Blood spurted within her maw from the puncture marks her canines had made in the night elf's neck. Already Ryu's cold hands were wrapping a linen bandage around the man's neck. The movements were cold, precise, hostile without seeming to.
He had been contracted, and the man would die, but he would pay a hundred fold for the lives he had taken before Ryu even considered allowing him to pass into Elune's grasp.
The hot circle moved accross the sky. Another mark was made in the pole. The Wolvar counted his markings, mouthing the words the no fur creature had used. His long tongue slicked accross teeth that turned even the heavy hided talbuk into tender meat. He counted again with the mouth sounds of the no fur creature, trying to remember how many marks this was.
"Twenty-seven"
Shrieked as the voice spoke behind him, jumping, rolling, grabbing poles to use as weapons, and saw the no fur creature with snow skin standing there with a satchel and a bloody paper. Calls were made, gathering called, elders roused. Two hearth fires later, and the remainder of the village encircled no fur.
The spirit that was his snarled from the air, the no fur reaching down to his side to pat the spirit, calming it. That was the reason the Wolvar had asked this no fur for help. It had the spirit as its guide. An elder poked the one who was named speaker, and he struggled to remember the no fur words.
"You come... many hot sky ago." The no fur nodded, silent, hooded, none had seen its face, but all knew its skin, the gloves it wore baring the fingers that tenderly wrapped around a bow string, as older males wrapped their hands about den mothers to be.
The Wolvar struggled to find the words. Seeing his frustration, the no fur spoke, its tongue whispering with its words.
"When I came, you were fearful, desperate. You asked me to find the cub killer, the mother slayer, the destroyer of young lives. I asked you wait twenty-seven days. I have returned, with proof of your killer's death. He suffered a long, long, long time before I finally gave him death. His body is scattered, all along the cold place you call home. His internals are draped accross the huts he violated, his blood soaks the graves of the little ones."
No fur moved the sack he was holding, presenting it to the clan chief. Even the clan chief didn't want to go near no fur, for he had seen nothing, smelt nothing as no fur walked within the village. No fur was death, to go against it was to be removed from the village for madness. No fur was insistant, and finally the clan chief took the sack, biting the tight cords and opening the sack. Blood was sniffed at by all those nearby. The sack was full of it. A steady gaze, and no fur continued.
"I give you the one thing all creatures have, proof that his body is nothing but scattered remains."
Clan chief growled, and a big bowl was brought forth. He tipped the blood into the bowl, untill he had to press at an object within it that wouldn't slip through the gap left in his hands. The blood drained, he tipped the object into his hand, and the village gasped.
A thick, strong heart lay within the clan chief's furred hand, blood oozing from its center as the clan chief squeezed it lightly. Ten-pair and ten-pair of eyes turned to no fur, and he removed another sack.
"I did many, many things to this one who had offered death to your village. Each day he suffered new fear, new pain, new tortures. I gutted him, then healed him, broke his back, and healed him, blinded him, and healed him. Be at peace, for he suffered hundreds of times more than your kin did. I can only offer sadness and understanding, and wishes that I had been there that day, for he would not have made it past the first death."
The Wolvar quaked, feeling the cold, burning rage of no fur. They had seen him, they knew he would have stopped the other no fur. Many had seen no fur give blood oath, had tasted the will to kill, many still could taste the hot blood, strong, male, dragon killer blood.
The second sack was pressed into speaker's hands. A drop of liquid touched his hands, and he looked up into no fur's hood, and forgot how to live.
Eyes of blue ice-fire smoldered with grief, and he knew, no fur was a god. Maybe not god like cold wind and hot circle, but a being of such strength, none could stand against it. He licked his hand when no fur turned away, tasting salt water. No fur grieved for them!
Speaker watched as no fur moved away from the village, and faded into the cold winds, leaving behind his presents of blood, and the paper they had used to show the destroyer's face. The blood of the destroyer crossed out his face, more proof that no fur had done what was bid.
Speaker opened the sack as the others growled about him, reached in, and froze. His furred hand met more fur. Gripping the fur he pulled, and out came the head of the destroyer. Den mothers screamed in fear, hunters readied spears, untill speaker showed no body was attached. Destroyer of little lives and den mothers was dead, no fur had promised.
Long, drawn out howls echoed within Boren Tundra as the Wolvar announced their debt paid. Future generations would sing the song of the no fur god with eyes of ice-fire, that made the spirits his guides.
Ryu wiped at his eyes as his Ghost Saber rubbed herself against and between his legs, trying her best to comfort her master. Soft hands dropped to her head, rubbing behind her ears in the way she adored.
"Sorry Saber... I'm just a bit of a mess." Ryu took a deep breath, before sighing, his mood altering, turning happy and joyous as he used his training to force a mood swing. "I owe you a shoveltusk steak for this job. Or would you like some firecracker salmon?" Ryu laughed out loud as the living ghost shoved against him, trapping him under her and licking his hooded face with her rough tongue.
Demon,